


Clean Laundry

by raspberrypie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Camels - Freeform, Glow Stars, M/M, Or am I, Too Many Metaphors, bad music, drowning in irony, iguana/male relationship, just kidding, my friend dared me to do this, oh well, slight angst, this is a bad idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrypie/pseuds/raspberrypie
Summary: This is a parody of the popular Voltron fandom fic "Dirty Laundry." I took it and "cleaned it up a lil". Washed the laundry if you like metaphors. New plot points, spiced up dialogue, and fresh takes on old characters. Follows the same general plot as Dirty Laundry with a few different twists. Mostly doing this because I lost a bet, and also because I live for parodying stuff. This isn't meant to offend the original creator of Dirty Laundry- it's for me to practice my own writing.yep so uhhh hope you enjoy my fanfiction of a fanfictionthis is meant to be a joke, i don't intend to offend anyonei am knee-deep in ironymy own abuelita would be so disappointedsave meklance is canon king -lucky luciano





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

ChatLog

princess fukboi killer: wow i just snagged a subway footlong for only six dollars  
hunkilicious: aren't they supposed to be only five dollars  
hunkilicious: ???  
princess fukboi killer: ...  
princess fukboi killer: well fuck  
alt-tea: don't use that language here lance, please  
hoebag: he can do what he wants allura he's a grown ass man  
hunkilicious: haha you said grown ass pfft  
princess fui bois killer: is this better  
hunkilicious: a little  
alt-tea: nOOOoooOo

princess fuk bois killer: ah shit  
hunkilicious: ???  
hoebag: what is it this time, buddy  
princess fuk bois killer: im so dead im so dead im so  
neil a: stop being so melodramatic and tell us what's wrong, idiot  
princess fuk bois killer: about to run out of battery. im coming up

Keith turned off his phone and sighed, irritated. Lance seemed to get on his nerves more and more lately. As soon as Shiro had introduced them at the start of the semester, they had butted heads- competing over video games, yelling over the logistics of proper social cues, and incessantly fighting over the maximum amount one was legally allowed to spend at Subway without looking like a total freak- something they still had, for the most part, major discrepancies over. Lately, there was something about the boy that just made Keith's blood boil- his cocky, self-assured smirk; his stupid, sloppy haircut, the unsettling blue of his eyes (those HAD to be contacts, right) or how he always entered a room dramatically, as if he was the most important person alive. Well, he wasn't. Not by a long shot. And now, Lance was baiting them, as always, via group chat- probably about a festival halfway across the world, or some horrendous new color that was trending, slowly making its way through all the major social media networks and fashion blogs. Man, Lance hated fuschia. Not that Keith cared.

It was always something minor; inconvenient; silly- just a week ago, Lance had texted them in a panic, excitedly sharing that bananas were cheaper in Ethiopia than anywhere else and that "oh my gosh we have to move there right now, they have cheap bananas Keith, like, you could buy a pound of bananas for a dollar! A dollar! Do you know how COOL that is?"

So it came as no surprise that when Lance DID show up, bursting through the library doors with the most distressed expression Keith had ever seen a person wear, neither he- nor any of the four other people sitting around him- paid Lance any mind. It was only when Lance wailed loudly, flailing his arms like a just-shot-down passenger pigeon, flopping down dramatically in the armchair directly across from Keith and earning a hard glare from the red haired librarian in the process- that someone asked what was wrong.

That someone, of course, was Allura.

"Lance, what the hell is it this time?"

She had such a way with words.

If Allura was concerned, her voice didn't show it. She filed her nails quietly, examining them in the soft glow of the library's fluorescents. 

He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

"What the hell is it this time? I'll tell you what the hell is it this time."

"It is."

Lance didn't even respond to Hunk's gentle taunt, his face dejectedly focusing on some obscure title four rows away nestled between marble busts of old writers.

"Wow, it really must have gotten you bad. What is it- another bad breakup?"

At this, Lance sat straight up, his face indignantly arranging itself into an expression of pure despair.

"Another bad breakup?" He asked weakly, his fingers rubbing his temples wearily.

Pidge snickered behind her hand.

Keith furrowed his brow, leaning forward slightly in his chair, making the old wooden frame creak.

"What? You were dating someone? This isn't some stunt about, I don't know, the falling pepper industry?"

Lance waved his hand dismissively, sinking back into the armchair.

"Keith, buddy, I wish. No man, that's like... the exact opposite of my problem here."

Hunk grinned.  
"So you ARE dating someone?"

Keith tried to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he was mildly worried. Lance was really starting to freak him out now. Whatever was going on with him at the moment seemed far more serious than the price of Ethiopian bananas.

Lance groaned, his head flopping into his hands. He mumbled something that sounded like "Tolkien's mom was beating a toy's end for Christmas."

Shiro looked concerned.  
"Um, what?"

Lance raised his head miserably, his hair sticking up from where he had run his hands through them.

"I told my mom that I was bringing a boyfriend home for Christmas."

Pidge looked up from her computer, cackling. "You what?!!"

Lance repeated his statement with even more dejection than the first time he had said it.

"I told.... my mom. That I would be bringing. A boyfriend. Home. For Christmas."

Hunk shook his head in awe.  
"Well, do you have a boyfriend? I thought you just said you weren't dating anyone?"

"No!" Lance moaned, his head falling back into his hands.

Allura looked up from her nails, her aqua eyes narrowing.

"Then why did you tell your mum that you were bringing home a boy? Bringing home anyone, in fact!"

Lance sighed miserably.

"I don't know! I was on the phone with her, and she asked me if I was going to be bringing anyone home for Christmas this year. And well, I don't know, I panicked! I told her yes. And I told her I was bringing home a BOY!!!"

Lance flung his head backward on "boy", his head lolling like a rag doll's.  
Keith momentarily entertained the thought of the twenty year old breaking his neck. Jarred from the disturbing (and potentially friend-ending) thought, Keith tried to focus on something else. Instead, he found himself focusing on Lance's intently drawn eyebrows, which did nothing to reduce his own stricken state.

Shiro looked at Lance dumbfounded, his prosthetic arm twitching. He had lost his left arm in what some people described as "a freaky bike accident" and others referred to as "the most hot and badass accident ever." Of course, at the time it wasn't hot or badass, but the prosthetic made for one intimidating looking dude. Pidge thought the technology was the coolest thing ever, and Allura said that she liked the way it felt wrapped against her waist. No one else, unfortunately, could make that claim, as Shiro didn't clench his robotic super-arm around just anyone. The whole team had no problem with the prosthetic, but it still freaked most of them out that it twitched when Shiro was upset. The prosthetic, strangely enough, also twitched when Shiro was convulsing with laughter. Like now, for example.

"Lance," he wheezed between fits of laughter, "I am so sorry for laughing but,,, oh my go- what the everloving fuCK were you thinking- serious question."

Lance looked at the man through desperate eyes- akin to the way that a starving camel looks at water months after being stranded in the desert. Except camels stored water in their humps. And they were native to the desert. And that was dehydration, not starvation.

And camels were colorblind.

"Well," Lance began, twisting his hands together, "I thought that saying that I was bringing home a boyfriend would be easy to say. I thought that maybe I could ask one of you guys to come with me? You know, to be my boyfriend?"

Hunk grinned devilishly at Lance from his position beside Pidge on the floor. "Is this just your way of asking one of us out, Lance?"

The poor boy groaned.  
"Fuck it, Hunk. I'm so screwed. I don't know what I was thinking, lying to my mom like that. But I just kept digging the lie so deep that, if I were to back out now, she'd never forgive me. I'm so dead. None of you are going to want to come meet my parents."

"Says who?"

Keith didn't even remember making the conscious decision to open his mouth, let alone formulate words.

Words to help Lance. Words to aid Lance. This was the boy that complained about colors in magazines, for heaven's sakes. The one that kept peppermint flavored lipbalm in his jeans, and green apple lollipops in his pockets. The boy that payed ridiculous amounts of money for Subway foot long sandwiches.

THAT LANCE.

Everyone turned to look at Keith immediately after the words had left his mouth. He had been relatively quiet up until that point, so, naturally, everyone wanted to hear what he had to say.

Man, sometimes Keith hated his friends.

Challenging Lance had been a mistake. He knew he had to get himself out of this one, and fast.

"I mean, I'm sure that someone will go with you. Hunk could go. Or Shiro. Or even Pidge, if you neede-"

Pidge cut him off with a curt shake of her head.

"I can't. Matt's coming over to spend Christmas with us."

Shiro nodded, his arm draped around the back of Allura's chair. "No can do. I wish I could help Lance, really. You know I'd do it in a heartbeat, Keith, but I really can't skip out on Christmas with my princess."

Allura laughed, setting her nail file aside. "I don't know, Shiro. It might be a great chance for you to bond with the boys. Or boy, rather."

Keith's voice was pained.  
"Hunk?"  
"Sorry dude. You know I have that wedding in Hawaii to go to. My sister would be so mad if I didn't go. Plus, all that wedding food?" Hunk patted his stomach. "Yes please."

Pidge raised her eyebrows from behind her computer.  
"That leaves only you, Keith."

Lance was eyeing him from the armchair. Keith could already see the gears spinning (albeit very slowly) in his mind.

"Oh no. No no no no no. Nope. Not me. Nah. No. Nopin' so hard."

Pidge raised her eyebrows again. Keith was worried they were going to disappear into her hair and be lost forever at this rate.

"What? You don't have any plans. You were planning to stay on campus for the holidays. If you ask me, that's a bit sad."

Keith never wanted to punch a skinny little kid more.

It didn't help that Lance's look of despair was slowly disappearing, being replaced with a bright, wide grin. It soon, however, turned dark again, once Lance actually realized the implications of Pidge's insinuations.

"Wait. You mean to tell me that I'm supposed to say that Keith-"  
Here he started gagging, and held up a finger for everyone to wait.  
"Sorry. That that-that LUMP OF COAL is my boyfriend???"

Keith's mouth opened in an incredulous retort.  
"What, you don't think that I'm hot enough to be dating you?"

Lance laughed loudly, to be reprimanded forcefully by the mustached librarian.  
He lowered his voice by only a fraction, whisper-laughing loud enough for everyone in his vicinity to hear.

"Oh, I KNOW that you're not hot enough for me to be dating you. I'm way out of your league!!! No one at my house will buy it."

Pidge exchanged a look with Allura, who slowly began to edge out of her seat, looking nervous and excited, and very unsure how to react to the situation.

"You're so full of yourself! Your family would totally buy that you're dating me."  
"Oh yeah?"  
"Yeah!" Keith retorted, his face flushed. He was gripping the armrest of his chair so tightly he could feel his knuckles turning white.

The librarian shuffled towards the back desk with a resigned sigh, his attempts at quieting the loud college kids hogging the arms chairs a failure.

"Okay," said Lance, his voice challengingly low. "Then why don't we prove it."

Pidge had stopped typing at her keyboard, perfectly intent on every word of the conversation. Even Shiro was listening, watching them with a vaguely amused expression.

With that, Lance dropped back into his chair with a smug grin, his posture completely nonplussed. His supposed anger from two seconds ago was completely gone, replaced by only a shit-eating grin as he fell back into the chair cushions. It made Keith wonder if this was Lance's plan all along- to get him riled up-to get him right where he wanted him.

Fuck, Keith thought. He got me.

And then:  
Fuck.  
He's good.

Keith feigned lack of understanding. It was the only way he could possibly hope to recover.

"What do you mean, 'why don't we prove it.'"

Lance looked disappointed, but the expression flashed across his face for only a split second before it was replaced with a bright, beaming smile. It made Keith wonder if he was imagining things.

"I mean, come to my house for Christmas. Be my fake boyfriend. It'll be a competition. We have those all the time, right? I think you're out of my league. You think, wrongly, that you're in it. So here's the deal- you'll come with me to meet my family for Christmas. We'll tell them we're dating. We'll do boyfriend type things. And if they buy it-" Lance snorts, pretending to wipe away at fake tears-"If they buy that I- Lance McClain, am dating YOU, then I will clean your laundry for a month."

Pidge snorted.

"It's 'do your-"

Hunk elbowed her quietly, nodding towards the scene unfolding before them.

Keith shook his head almost impercievably- maybe a fraction of an inch at best.  
"And if they don't buy it?"  
Lance rolled his eyes.  
"I thought it obvious? You'll do MY laundry for a month."

Keith smiled, considering the options.  
The options sounded pretty good.

"I don't know Lance. It seems like a win/win situation for me. If they find out we're not dating, I do your laundry, but your mom also knows that I lied to them. And you'll lose the trust of your whole family."

Lance frowned.  
"Keith Kogane, thinking with his head for once? Incredible."

Keith shrugged, continuing. "And if they do think we're dating- well, I'll have to touch your gross clothes for thirty days, but I'll also have the satisfaction of knowing that I'm hot enough for the great Lance McClain."  
Keith paused, mulling his statement over.  
"Not hot enough. I'll know that your whole family thought that I was the perfect man for you."  
Lance glowers at this unsympathetically, his arms tensing on the by-now-probably-tired-from-being-sat-on-armchair.

Keith tapped his hands on the wood of his own chair.  
"So, like I said. A win/win."

Lance shrugged, stretching his feet out in front of him. "You bring up a good point. But you overlooked something really important. It's not about them finding out that we're not dating. It's about my family thinking if you're IN MY LEAGUE. After Christmas, we can tell them we broke up- no questions asked. Think of it as a social experiment. Besides, it's not really a win/win."

Lance flashed his teeth at him, nodding in Allura's wide-eyed direction.

"My family is super protective of me. They're pretty hard to please. And if they don't like you?"

Lance let out a low whistle, stretching his arms into the air.  
"Believe me- you'll know."

 

Keith grinned at that, getting up from his armchair (to the relief of the librarian, who had returned from the supply room much too soon and was now making angry snide comments about them under his breath) with a sigh.

"You don't know what you're getting into."

"Yes," Allura commented, dragging her physics textbook out of her backpack- "This is exactly how couples get together in romantic comedies. Shiro lent me one a few days ago that started just like this."

Lance laughed, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Don't worry. This is a one time thing. Listen, Keith, I know you're doing this only to spite me, and because you're a petty dude, but honestly, I appreciate it."

Hunk shook his head.

"Maybe next time you shouldn't freak out in the group chat before you tell us about your problems that can be worked out by simply talking through them, alright?"

Lance pointed towards him as he walked backwards out of the library, shooting imaginary bullets from his finger guns.

"Great life wisdom. Thanks Hunk!"

Then, with a wave and a near bump into the (by now incredibly angry) librarian, he was out of the door.

"Oh man," Pidge muttered, her glasses reflecting the light of her blue screen.  
"What have you gotten yourself into?"

Keith shrugged.  
"A nightmare, probably."

Shiro smiled.  
"It's just Lance. You're doing him a big favor. And he's going to wash your clothes."

Hunk grinned, flipping to a page in his textbook.  
"Well, the laundry is worth it."

Keith shook his head.  
"I sure hope so, guys. I sure hope so."

~


	2. Chapter 2

Yeah. He was definitely going to regret this.

That was Keith's first thought upon seeing Lance's trunk, packed to the brim with already-overflowing suitcases. It was also his second thought- the same thought- upon seeing Lance, who was presently trying to dislocate his elbow so as to cram one more small black bag of luggage in the unrelenting pile. That piece of luggage was Keith's, and he'd be damned if it didn't fit.  
It didn't fit.

"Don't you have anything at your house?" Keith deadpanned, peering at a slightly open bag that seemed to be filled with face masks and slippers. "You don't really need all this shit. No, you couldn't possibly need most of this shit."

Never mind the trunk- the car itself was an absolute wreck. It was a wonder the thing was still standing upright, what with all the long scratches that wound themselves around the metal body. The tires looked very questionable, and the windows were covered with suspicious stains.

Lance loved the car, of course. Keith was beginning to realize that Lance had REALLY bad judgement with what he chose to love.

"This thing is supposed to take us nineteen hours to Arizona?" Keith noted, lightly patting the top of the car with his hand. He could swear that he heard it groan under the weight of his palm.

Lance's face fell a little, and Keith immediately felt somewhat guilty about hating on Lance's car. It was, after all, the bucket of rust that was supposed to transport them a full nineteen hours to Lance's family home. Keith was a fool to tempt death now.

Lance let out a satisfied nod, looking at the luggage he'd finally managed to cram together in the trunk. Keith dared to think that the boy was actually PROUD of his handiwork. Said handiwork, of course, looked like a four year old had played Tetris for the first time and the game had glitched in the middle of a particularly terrible move. Thankfully, Keith chose not to comment on this point.

"I know she looks pretty bad. But you'll love her. Little Lady may not look like much, but she's an absolute beaut."  
Lance threw the car a dazzling smile, running his hands over the door handle reassuringly. Little Lady groaned in return.

"Okay baby," Lance grinned, clapping his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road!"

~

Keith didn't know if he could survive this.

It was only an hour in, and Lance was already singing along to bubblegum pop with the loudest singing voice Keith had ever heard, save for drunk Allura raving karaoke style on their second night at school.

Nevertheless, the sound was ear-splitting.

"Can you turn it down?"

Lance ignored him, mouthing the words while his fingers turned the dial up to be even louder.

Man, Keith wasn't going to make it through this trip alive.

They switched positions after five hours of hits that were embarrassing to listen to even in the year that they were released. Lance had made a snide comment under his breath about Keith's driving, and then he was out cold. Keith appreciated the silence- he didn't mind driving, if driving meant that he could listen to what he actually wanted to listen to.

"You know," he muttered at an unconscious Lance, knowing full well that he couldn't hear him, "you're kind of cute when you sleep. Like an overgrown baby, really. But cute."  
Keith laughed softly.  
"You'd be more likable if you never spoke, actually. Yeah. I could go for that."

Lance muttered something in his sleep, turning his head to rest against the window.

~  
December 12, 2017 at 2:12 AM

When Lance woke up, he looked utterly panic stricken.

"How close are we?"

Keith sighed.

"Too far. Much too far."

Lance wasn't listening, his fingers tapping on his thigh.

"Could you stop that? It's distracting."

Keith had expected a snide response from the boy. Something like "I have been known to distract." But Lance clearly wasn't paying attention, his eyes distant and panicked.

"Did you know the average Australian spends $65,000 dollars on their wedding?"

Keith pursed his lips, dumbfounded.

"What?"

Lance shook his head.

"I don't know. I'm on edge! I just realized I didn't tell you the worst part about this agreement."

Keith scoffed, his eyes narrowed on the road.

"What could be the worst part of the agreement?"

"My abuelita, Keith. My abuelita!"

Keith didn't make the connection Lance was obviously waiting for him to make. There weren't any connections TO make, as far as Keith could see. Lance might as well have been asking him if a fox was a bird of prey or not, instead related to the beluga whale.

"Yeah? What about her?"

Lance clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"She's homophobic, actually. Just a touch. And she's coming over for Christmas. Probably won't take your tongue down my throat too well, you know?"

Keith choked on his own saliva.

"I'm sorry, I appear to have misheard you. She won't take too well to what now?"

Lance looked annoyed.

"Your tongue" -he said, gesturing to Keith's lips- "down MY throat."

Keith wanted death to take him, right there.

"What does that mean?"

Lance rolled his eyes.

"You're my fake boyfriend now, remember? How am I supposed to convince my parents that we're dating if we don't do couple-like things in front of them?"

Keith shook his head, still in denial.

"Nah. No way. There's a lot of couples that don't kiss, right? Like, how about Amish people? Lance, how comfortable do you feel with changing religions?"

Lance grinned, clearly enjoying Keith's discomfort.

Keith was beginning to feel desperate, grabbing at straws.

"Scale of one to ten?"

"I'm a ten, yes."

"I'm serious!

"And I'm bisexual. That doesn't mean I'm ready to give up Internet and churn butter for fun, Keith. You're going to have to kiss me."

"But I'm not gay for you!"

Keith wanted to slam his head on the car horn.

"If you were, we wouldn't be fake dating, would we?"

Keith wanted to ask what Lance meant, but he had already moved on, talking a mile a minute.

"All I'm saying is that you have to occasionally kiss me, and put up with some homophobia from my grandma. All in the name of laundry and self-esteem, am I right? Oh, and saving my ass of course."

Lance flashed him what Keith thought he assumed was his award-winning smile. Really, it just wanted to make Keith stop the car and strangle him, right there.

"If your grandmother..." he said slowly, pointedly enunciating every word, "is homophobic.... then why.... would you... bring.... a boy... to your house... for Christmas?"

Lance groaned, mirroring his expression from the library.

"I got myself into this shit, okay? Don't give me shit about it when the damage is done."

"But why?"

Lance gazed ahead, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the figure dangling from his car mirror.

"Listen, being bisexual is hard. You don't get it because you're gay and all, alright? You're into just guys. It's still hard for you, but at least people know. You like just guys. But being attracted to guys and girls is different. It's difficult. People are constantly trying to discredit you. Date a girl? The LGBTQ+ community rejects you, and the Vatican embraces you. Date a boy? The community injects you into their bloodstream like some drug junkie, and you have people in your own home whispering about the demon possessing you. I just wanted to prove to my mom- both of my parents- that my sexuality exists, you know? On both sides of the spectrum."

"Uh, wow. Okay."

Lance snapped away from the window, his coy glance returning.

"So you're going to have to deal with some of this for a while. It's not the worst deal, actually. I daresay that you might enjoy it."

Keith swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with the car.

"You're full of shit."

"Yeah," Lance said wistfully. "But at least I'm full of something."

~

A few subway sandwiches later they had switched drivers and were only ten minutes away from Lance's house. Keith couldn't stop cackling at the scenery whizzing by around them- between the grassy fields and open blue sky, it looked like a fucking farm.

Not just any farm, either. One from The Wizard of Oz, before the twister came and everything turned to color.

"So, you're a farmer, huh?"

Lance scoffed.

"Shut up, Keith. Shiro told me you lived by yourself in Texas with nothing but a cork board full of Mothman clippings once. And close your mouth. It's wide-open, if you hadn't noticed."

Keith gaped at the boy beside him, driving so effortlessly. Lance's long tan fingers bent the steering wheel to his will.

"Shiro told you that?"

Lance had the decency to look a little bit abashed.

"I may have gone through his camera roll. That's besides the point."

Keith sighed, his eyes locking on Lance's smug profile.

"Whatever. You're more of a farmer than I am."

Lance wagged his finger.

"Actually, I'm not. We may live in the middle of nowhere, but we're not farmers. We have a goat and a few chickens, and most of our neighbors are farmers, but we aren't. My parents actually own a grocery store in town. So you can suck my dick, Keith."

Keith was so taken aback that he didn't even notice himself blush.

"Don't say that!"

Lance grinned.

"Don't worry. It's not gay if we're fake-dating."

Keith wouldn't have minded opening the car door and letting his body hit the gravel right there, but the road was lined with trees and blackberry bushes that would have proved hazardous to even the most determinedly embarrassed gay escapees. They must have been getting close to Lance's family home.

"We're almost there!"

Keith wanted to smack himself when Lance's house finally came into view- the chipped yellow paint and clear age of it showed through the white shutters and window trim. Bikes were haphazardly strewn on the lawn, battling soccer balls for dominance. Flowers grew around the foundation, bathing it in warm splashes of light. Lance's house was clearly old, and worn down, and rustic. It should have been ugly. Keith should have been able to make fun of it, laugh at the sheer domestic vibe of it all. He couldn't. He wanted to scream at the familiarity of it all.

It looked like sunshine.

As Lance was parking the car, a noise like a gunshot came from the garage door. Two small children were sprinting towards Little Lady, a large boxer dog nipping at their heels. Lance undid his seatbelt with excited fingers and practically tripped over himself opening the car door.

Keith was still panicking in the passenger seat.

It had just been a few minutes, and already Keith felt uncomfortable with the sheer feeling of it all. Sure, pretending to be Lance's boyfriend had sounded tolerable, if not okay, when they were all back joking about it in the library. But actually doing it? And now, seeing Lance's house? Keith felt like he was imposing- like he didn't belong. He had the sudden urge to move to the driver seat and floor it, taking Little Lady and the stupid transformer keychain with him.

Except Lance was already gesturing excitedly toward him inside the car, no doubt introducing him to his nephew and little sister.

There was nothing left to do. Keith took a deep breath and stepped outside the car.


End file.
